Read Online Marysvale by Jared Southwick - Free Book Online

disapprovingly at me, but
gave in. “All right, I can see there will be no convincing you
otherwise. Hold on for just a moment.”
    Disappearing into the cabin, she
quickly returned with two large, red apples and a strip of
cloth.
    “ You look pale and hungry,”
she noted, handing me the apples. “Here: one for you and one for
your horse.”
    Then she took the cloth and tied it
around my injured arm. I winced, but said nothing.
    “ There, that should slow
down the bleeding some.”
    I looked into her eyes. “Thank
you.”
    She smiled. “There is food and water in
the barn, and grooming supplies on a nearby shelf. I’ll get some
things ready for you when you’ve finished. Now off you go. And
hurry back before you faint from hunger and lack of blood; I’d
really rather not have to carry you.”
    My apple lasted about as long as it
took me to get over to Smoke, and it was delicious. Smoke must have
thought so too, because his disappeared in two bites. I quickly
scanned his legs for any injuries. Amazingly, he looked unscathed.
I led him into the barn where two other horses were stabled.
One-handedly, I removed the remainder of the gear, groomed and fed
him, and then returned to the cabin.
    I hesitated at the door, wondering if I
should knock or just go in. My answer came quickly.
    “ You didn’t bother to knock
the first time, why start now?” she called from somewhere in the
cabin. “Come on back to the kitchen.”
    I did and was greeted by the smell of
something wonderful roasting in an oven; it made my mouth water. A
table was pushed up under a window that gave a spectacular view of
the setting sun reflecting across the tranquil lake. On the table
were two lit lamps, some clean rags, a needle, thread, and a bottle
of some kind of liquid.
    “ How did you know I was at
the door?” I asked.
    “ The boards on the porch
squeak for a reason—they let me know when someone is
coming.”
    “ Oh, I didn’t think of
that.”
    “ Most people don’t—except
the ones who don’t want to be heard. They’re the ones you really
have to worry about.”
    “ Do you get many of those?”
I asked curiously.
    “ No, but still it’s better
to be prepared. If something happens out here, there really is
nowhere to go for help. Now sit down and take off your shirt,” she
ordered. “This is going to hurt.”
    I believed her.
    She poured some scented liquid onto one
of the cloths and began to scrub. As predicted, it turned out to be
a very painful process. I gritted my teeth while she scoured, until
all the dried blood and grime were gone and the wound was
clean.
    “ Good,” she said, picking up
the needle and threading it. “Well, I suppose it’s time we
introduce ourselves.”
    “ Yes, ma’am.”
    “ My name is Sarah Stone. You
may call me Sarah, and please stop calling me ma’am—it makes me
feel old. Now, who might you be?”
    I started to say,
‘
Yes,
ma’am
,’
but caught myself and simply replied, “John
Casey.”
    “ Hello John. It’s a pleasure
to meet you.”
    I looked up and our eyes locked. I
decided to read her. However, as soon as I began, the window to her
soul closed and blocked me from finding anything out. I had never
experienced such resistance before in my life. I tried not to look
surprised, though I’m not too sure I succeeded.
    She studied me for a moment and then
smiled. “Well, John, this will also hurt a little.”
    It did. Only it didn’t hurt a little,
it hurt tremendously. I looked away, not particularly enjoying the
scene, and somehow managed to keep quiet as the needle and thread
slid stingingly through me twelve times.
    I inspected the work. It was swollen
and red, but looked better closed than opened; and I felt sure it
would heal much quicker. With a clean, wet rag, she wiped any
leftover blood. Then she took long strips of cloth and bound up the
wound.
    “ There, all done,” she
announced. “You’re going to have to take it easy for a while, or
you’ll tear that right